In his laudable desire to further Bonnibel's happiness, the colonel lavished4 gold like water. He knew no other path to success than this. He wanted to win her regard, if possible, and his experience in society had disposed him to believe that the most potent5 "open sesame" to a woman's heart was wealth and power.
How far the colonel's convictions were true, or how ably he might have succeeded in the darling wish of his heart, had things gone well, we shall never know, for the frail6 superstructure of his happiness, builded on the sand, was destined7 to be thrown down and shattered into fragments by the wild winds of fate, that should converge8 into storms on that fatal night to which so many looked forward with pleasure.
And yet not the faintest presentiment9 of evil came to him that day to whisper of the gathering10 clouds of destiny. He knew not that his "house of cards" tottered11 on its foundation, that the wreck12 and ruin of his dearest hope was about to be consummated13. He knew not, or he might have exclaimed with the poet:
"Of all that life can teach us, There's naught14 so true as this; The winds of fate blow ever, But ever blow amiss!"
The brief winter day came at length, gloomy and overcast15, with clouded sky that overflowed16 with a wild, tempestuous17 rain, as though
"The heart of Heaven was breaking In tears o'er the fallen earth."
At night the storm passed over, the bright stars shone through the misty18 veil of darkness, a lovely silver moon hung its crescent in the sky. All things seemed propitious19 for the hour that was "big with fate" to the lovely girl whose changing fortunes we have followed to the turning point of her life.
Cold, and dark, and gloomy though it seemed outside, all was light, and warmth, and summer in the splendid chateau20.
Hot-house flowers bloomed everywhere in the most lavish3 profusion21. The air was heavy with their fragrance22.
Entrancing strains of music echoed through the splendid halls, tempting23 light feet to the gay whirl of the dance. The splendid drawing-rooms, opening into each other, looked like long vistas24 of fairy-land, in the glow of light, and the beauty shed around by countless25 flowers overflowing26 great marble vases everywhere. The gay masquers moved through the entrancing scene, chatting, laughing, dancing, as though life itself were but one long revel27. In the banqueting hall the long tables were loaded with every luxury under the sun, temptingly spread on gold and silver plates. Nothing that taste could devise, or wealth could procure28, was lacking for the enjoyment29 of the guests; and pleasure reigned30 supreme31.
[Pg 90]
It was almost the hour for unmasking, and Colonel Carlyle stood alone, half hidden by a crimson-satin curtain, looking on idly at the gay dancers before him.
He felt weary and dull, though he would not have owned it for the world. He hated to feel the weakness and feebleness of old age creeping over him, as it was too surely doing, and affected32 to enter into all the gaieties of the season, with the zest33 and ardor34 of a younger and stronger man.
He had for a few moments felt dull, sad and discontented. The reason was because he had lost sight of his beautiful idol35 whom no mask could hide from his loving eyes.
She had disappeared in the moving throng36 a little while ago, and now he impatiently waited until some happy chance should restore her to his sight again.
"I am very foolish over my darling," he said to himself, half proudly, half seriously. "I do not believe that any young man could worship her as passionately37 as I do. I watch over her as closely and jealously as if some dread38 mischance might remove her from my sight at any moment. Ah, those dreadful two years in which I so cruelly put her out of my life and starved my eyes and my heart—would that I might recall them and undo39 their work! Those years of separation and repentance40 have sadly aged41 me!"
He sighed heavily, and again his anxious gaze roved through the room.
"Ah, there she is," he murmured, delightedly. "My beautiful Bonnibel! how I wish the time for unmasking would come. I cannot bear for her sweet face to be hidden from my sight."
At that moment a small hand fluttered down upon his arm.
He turned abruptly42.
Beside him stood a woman whose dark eyes shone through her concealing43 mask like coals of fire. She spoke44 in a low, unfamiliar45 voice:
"I know you, sir. Your mask cannot hide Colonel Carlyle from my eyes."
"Madam, you have the advantage of me," he answered politely. "Will you accord me the privilege of your name?"
"It matters not," she answered, with a low, eerie46 laugh, whose strangeness sent a cold thrill like an icy chill along his veins47, "I am but a wandering sibyl; I claim no name, no country."
"Perhaps you will foretell48 my future," he said, humoring her assumption of the character.
"It were best concealed," she said, and again he heard that strange, blood-curdling laugh.
He bowed and stood gazing at her silently, wondering a little who she could be.
The wandering sibyl stood silent, too, as if lost in thought. Presently she started and spoke like one waking from a dream:
"And yet perhaps I may give you a word of warning."
"Pray do so," he answered carelessly, for his eyes had returned to the graceful49 form of Bonnibel as she stood leaning against a tall stand of flowers at a little distance from him.
[Pg 91]
The woman's eyes followed his. She frowned darkly beneath her mask.
"You have gathered many distinguished50 guests around you to-night, Colonel Carlyle," she said, abruptly.
"None more honored than yourself, madam, be sure, although unknown," he answered, with a courtly bow.
"Pretty words," she answered, with a mocking laugh. "Let me repay them by a friendly warning."
She bent51 nearer and breathed in a low, sibilant whisper:
"Your wife and the great artist who is your honored guest to-night, were lovers long ago. Watch well how they meet when unmasked to-night!"
With the words she glided52 from him like the serpent forsaking53 Eden.
And that deadly serpent, jealousy54, that had lain dormant55 in the colonel's heart for months, "scotched56 but not killed," now coiled itself anew for a fatal spring.
The blood in his veins seemed turning to liquid fire.
His heart beat so wildly that he could distinctly hear its rapid throbs57.
He felt frightened at the swiftness and violence of the passion that flooded his whole being.
The words spoken by the masked woman seemed to burn themselves into his heart.
"Your wife and the great artist who is your honored guest to-night were lovers long ago. Watch well how they meet when unmasked to-night."
For a moment Reason tried to assert her supremacy58, and whisper, "Peace, be still," to the seething59 whirlpool of emotion.
"Do not believe it," she said. "Someone is trying to tease you. It is quite impossible that Bonnibel and this foreign artist should have met before. Anonymous60 warnings should always be treated with contempt."
And then he remembered the anonymous note he had received at Long Branch two years before.
"That was true," he said to himself. "Bonnibel as good as admitted it, for she would not show me the inscription61 in the ring, and she refused to give up wearing it. But she said that the giver was dead. Had she had two lovers, then, innocent and youthful as she was? Perhaps she deceived me. Women are not to be trusted, they say. I will obey the warning of my unknown friend and watch."
He waited impatiently for the summons to supper, which would be the signal for laying aside the masks.
"It must be true," he said to himself, "for that would explain why he was so discourteous62 about painting her portrait. He did not wish to be thrown into familiar contact with her again. Perhaps she had used him cruelly. It may be that she threw him over because he was poor and unknown, then, and accepted me only for the sake of my wealth."
He was nearly maddened by these tumultuous thoughts. He was almost on the point of going to her at once and overwhelming her with the accusation63 of her wrong-doing.
[Pg 92]
At that moment the signal came and his guests unmasked.
He saw Monsieur Favart coming toward him accompanied by a handsome distinguished-looking young man in the costume of a knight64. He had never met the great Roman artist, yet he felt a quick intuition that this must be the man. The premonition was verified for Monsieur Favart paused before him and said:
"Colonel Carlyle, it gives me pleasure to present my artist friend, Mr. Dane."
The two gentlemen bowed to each other, but for a moment Colonel Carlyle could not speak. When he did his voice was hoarse65 and strained, and his words of welcome were so few that Monsieur Favart looked at him in surprise. What had become of the old colonel's urbanity and courtliness?
"You will allow me to present you to my wife, Mr. Dane," said the host, breaking the silence with an effort.
The artist bowed and they moved down the long room side by side, the old man with his white face and silvery beard, the young one with his princely grace and refined beauty.
Leslie Dane had been most reluctant to attend the ball given by the American colonel, but Carl Muller had teased him into compliance66. He had nerved himself for the trial, and found that he could bear the contact with one from his native land with more sang froid than he expected.
"Now I shall see the old lady," was his half-smiling comment to himself as he walked along. "I wonder if she is very angry with me because I would not paint her portrait."
The next moment, before he had time to raise his eyes, he found himself bowing hurriedly at the sound of his host's voice uttering the usual formal words of introduction.
Bonnibel was standing67 alone by a tall jardiniere of flowers, looking downward a little thoughtfully. She was dressed as Undine, in a floating robe of sea-green, with billows of snowy tulle, looped with water-lilies and sea-grasses, and lightly embroidered68 with pearls and tiny sea-shells. Her appropriate ornaments69 were aquamarines in a setting of golden shells. Her long, golden hair fell unbound over her shoulders and rippled70 to her waist, enveloping71 her form in a halo of brightness. She looked like a beautiful siren of old ocean, as fair and fresh and beautiful as Venus when she first arose from its coral caves.
Someone had said to her just a moment before, "Mrs. Carlyle, you look like a beautiful picture," and the words had recalled to her mind the great artist who had refused to paint her portrait.
"I wonder if Mr. Deane is here to-night," she was thinking, when Colonel Carlyle's voice spoke suddenly beside her, and she bowed haughtily72, actuated by a little feeling of pique73, and lifted her sea-blue eyes to the face of the artist. She met his gaze fixed74 steadily75 upon her with a look of utter surprise, bitter pain and bitterer scorn upon his deathly pale face. In an instant the tide of time rolled backward and these two, standing face to face the first time in years, knew each other!
Ah, me! how could she bear the revelation that flashed over her so swiftly, and live through its horror, its shame and disgrace! The words she had been about to speak died unuttered[Pg 93] on her lips, the lights, the flowers, the stern, set face of Leslie Dane, all swam before her eyes as things "seen in a glass, darkly." She threw up her hands blindly and reeled backward, striking against the light jardiniere as she fell. It was overturned by the shock, and scattered76 its wealth of flowers about her as she lay there unconscious, as beautiful, as fragile, as innocent as they.
For a moment neither Colonel Carlyle nor Leslie Dane moved or spoke. It was a third person who pushed past them and lifted the fair, inanimate form. For Colonel Carlyle, there was murder seething in his jealous heart that moment, and in the breast of Leslie Dane a grand scorn was strangling every emotion of pity.
"Falser than all fancy fathoms77, Falser than all songs have sung,"
was the thought in his heart as he looked down on the pale and lifeless face.
People crowded around, with advice and restoratives, and as she came back slowly to life they asked her what had caused her to faint. Was she ill, were the flowers too overpowering, were the rooms too warm?
"I struck my head against the jardiniere and fell," was all she would say as she hid her pale face in her hands to shut out the sight of the cold, calm eyes that looked down upon her with veiled scorn.
Colonel Carlyle revived sufficiently78 to lead her away to her room, and people told each other that an accident had happened to Mrs. Carlyle. She had struck her head against the jardiniere of flowers and fainted from the pain.
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1
recherche
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| adj.精选的；罕有的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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3
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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converge
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| vi.会合；聚集，集中；(思想、观点等)趋近 | |
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9
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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11
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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12
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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13
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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14
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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15
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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16
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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18
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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21
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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24
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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25
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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26
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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27
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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28
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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30
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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35
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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36
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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38
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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41
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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42
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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43
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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45
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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46
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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47
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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48
foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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49
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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50
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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51
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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52
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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53
forsaking
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| 放弃( forsake的现在分词 )； 弃绝； 抛弃； 摒弃 | |
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54
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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55
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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56
scotched
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| v.阻止( scotch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止（车轮）转动；弄伤；镇压 | |
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57
throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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58
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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59
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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60
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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61
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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62
discourteous
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| adj.不恭的，不敬的 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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64
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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65
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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66
compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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67
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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69
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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70
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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71
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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72
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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73
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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74
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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75
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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76
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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77
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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78
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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